Butler's Wager

The men in the circle around the table began to nod.

“All right, then,” Jack said. “I’ll take that bet.” He looked at Butler. “What about you?”

“He’d never cover me, too,” Butler said.

“Like hell!” Troy said. “I’ll cover you, too.”

“Ten grand?” Butler asked.

“That’s right.”

“Who’s got paper and pencil?” Butler asked.

The bartender came forward and gave Troy a pencil and some paper. He wrote each man a marker for ten thousand dollars. These were put on the side, as they were not part of the main pot.

“It was your raise, kid,” Butler said to Troy. “What’ve you got?”

Sweating, Troy put his cards down on the table. Three queens. The other two cards were lower. No kicker this time. He’d held his three queens.

“No good,” Butler said. He placed his hand on the table. He’d drawn a pair of deuces to go with his three Aces. A full house. A murmur went up from the crowd.

“You only won the pot,” Troy reminded him. “The markers say you both gotta beat me.”

“That’s what they say, all right,” Jack said, and set his cards down. Amazing. He’d kept a pair of kings and had drawn a third. He had three kings.

“You’re beat, boy,” he said. “Pot and side bets. The pot’s yours, Mr. Butler, and here’s your marker.”

Jack tossed Butler’s marker into the pot and the man raked it all in.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Troy said. “You both set me up.”

“What?” Jack asked.

“How come every time I made a big bet tonight one of you called me?” he demanded.

“Because you made big bets all night with nothing, kid,” Butler said. “You can’t buy every pot.”

“It’s not all about the money, son,” Jack said. “If you bet a lot, you better have the hand to back it up.”

Troy stuck his lower lip out like a small boy.

“That usually works.”

“Against tinhorns and farmers, maybe,” Jack said.

“Not against poker players,” Butler added.

Troy glared at both men, then stood up so quickly he knocked over his chair. He was wearing a new-looking Colt in an equally new-looking leather holster. Butler thought he’d been smelling new leather all night. Now he knew why.

Troy’s hand hovered near his gun.

“I wanna know why you two are always callin’ my big bets!” he demanded. “Yer workin’ together.”

“Calm down,” Jack told him. “I never met this gent before tonight.”

“Take it easy, kid,” Butler said.

Troy was a kid, in his twenties, probably five or six years younger than Butler, and ten or fifteen younger than Three-Eyed Jack. If he was going to live past this night, however, he was going to have to become calm and not draw his gun.

Troy got up and cleared away, backing into the crowd, then the crowd as a whole moved further back.

“I don’t lose like this,” Troy said.

“Son,” Jack said, “I’ll bet you’d lose all the time if you played with poker players, and not farmers.”

If this was an insult to the crowd, they didn’t react.

“Now, don’t pull that hogleg,” Jack said. “I don’t know about Mr. Butler, here, but I’m pretty fast with a gun. Mr. Butler?”

“I can hold my own,” Butler said.

“See?” Jack said. “One of us would surely kill you if you pull that weapon.”

“I’ll take one of you fuckers with me!” Troy snarled.

“You don’t want to die, kid,” Butler said. “Think about it.”

“It ain’t worth it,” Jack said, then he went too far. “Tell you what. If you settle down, Mr. Butler or me can give you some lessons.”

“I don’t need any goddamn lessons!” Troy shouted.

Butler moved then, because Troy looked directly at Jack. He grabbed the near edge of the table and shoved. The other edge caught Troy in the hips, and Butler kept pushing, digging his toes in. Troy stepped backward to try to retain his balance, and that’s when Jack moved. He leaped to his feet, reached out, and snatched the young man’s gun from his holster.

“Hey!” Troy shouted, righting himself.

Butler gave way to anger.

“You stupid little sonofabitch!” he snapped. “One of us could’ve gotten killed just because you’re a goddamned sore loser.”

“You can’t—” Troy started, but Butler came around the table and threw a punch. The blow struck Troy on the nose, which squashed like a tomato, blood spurting everywhere. Troy staggered back and fell onto the floor in a seated position, both hands smacked over his face.

“You bwoke my dose!” Troy cried.

“It’s a lot less than you deserve,” Jack said, tucking Troy’s gun into his own gun belt. “Now, get the hell out of here.”

Troy staggered to his feet, looked at Jack and said, “I wan’ my gun.”

“I’ll leave it with the sheriff,” Jack said. “Have your father collect it from him in the mornin’.”

Troy stared at Jack, glared at Butler, then picked up his hat and went out through the batwing doors.

“Game over?” Jack asked Butler.

“I think so.”

“Come on, then,” the other man said. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

CHAPTER 2

The crowd dispersed, some leaving, some finding their way to tables or the bar. Three-Eyed Jack and Butler claimed two places at the bar and each ordered a beer.

“That was close,” Jack said, lifting his mug. “I thought one of us was gonna have to kill him.”

“It would have been a shame,” Butler said, hefting his own beer. “He’s young, and he has time to learn.”

“Well, if he don’t learn soon,” Jack said, “he’s not gonna live much longer. A Ben Thompson or Luke Short might not have our patience.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t find his way into a game with them.”

“Where’s tomorrow gonna find you, Butler?” Jack asked. “You ain’t gonna stay around here.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” Jack said, “for one thing there ain’t room for both of us. And for another, you’re too young and this town is dyin’. I figure you to move on to someplace with more life in it.”

“I was giving Tombstone some thought,” Butler said, “but from what I hear the Earps have moved in there and are having some problems.”

“Well,” Jack said, “it would certainly have more life than this place.”

“I’m going to hit Dodge City first,” Butler said, “on my way west.”

“Another dyin’ town,” Jack said, “but it has more life than this place. I understand Jim Masterson is a lawman there.”

“Maybe I’ll get to meet Bat, then.”

“The way I hear it, Jim and Bat ain’t exactly on speakin’ terms,” Jack said. “Besides, Bat’s already in Tombstone with the Earps.”